Snapshots of a New Zealand Holiday
by volkslieder
Summary: Ten takes Donna to New Zealand where her dislike of sheep becomes alarmingly justified.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Snapshots of a New Zealand Holiday (Part 1)  
**Rating:** PG for censored swearing.  
**Characters:** Ten, Donna

**Summary:** Ten takes Donna to New Zealand where her dislike of sheep becomes alarmingly justified.  
**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who is copyright to the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement intended, no money being made.

Thanks so much to sophieisgod for being a brilliant beta. :D And tinuviel428 for her early awesome feedback.

**A/N:** The idea for this came from noticing the two references to New Zealand in 'Voyage of the Damned'. The Doctor's remark that it was a beautiful place, and its appearance on a board where the Tardis materialised. The resulting somewhat cracky theory was that NZ just might be this season's Torchwood/Saxon/Bad Wolf. (Obviously this is not going to be the case...but the idea was certainly attractive!)

--

_FIRST POLAROID: A blurred blue box spinning towards tussocked hills._

"What did you say they called it?" asked Donna.  
"Aotearoa," called the Doctor, straddling the loudly whirring console.  
"You what?"  
"Land of the long white cloud," he said, giving his Tardis one last prod.  
"Oh, alright," said Donna, and poked a button absentmindedly. The Tardis lurched suddenly sideways.  
"Don't do that!" said the Doctor in alarm.  
"I was trying to be helpful," said Donna. "You still won't explain to me how any of this works. How am I supposed to help if you won't explain to me? I'd love to help, I want to help - "  
"- I will!" the Doctor interrupted.  
"Bet that Rose got an explanation straight off," she muttered.  
He didn't answer at first, and then,  
"She already knew her way round."  
Donna didn't quite know how to reply to that.  
"So this cloud planet, Otea-whatsit, what sort of things live here? Nothing weird, is it? No more giant bugs? I don't want no more giant bugs."  
The Doctor grinned. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door. Outside, the world was all fresh skies, and undulating green, and sheep. Lots of sheep. Donna had never fancied sheep much.  
"It's the other side of the world," said the Doctor quietly.

_SECOND POLAROID: A long stretch of tar road, a wood and wire fence edging one side. The posts are old and warped by winter ice._

"Never liked the country much," said Donna as they reached the road.  
"Why's that?"  
"I dunno, I just find it too quiet. And too...country."  
"I've got music like that," said the Doctor. "Left, I think." And they began walking along the road, softly curving green hills on either side.  
"You listen to country music?" said Donna. "I trusted you, sunshine. I trusted you. With my life. I got in a blue box with a country music fan. That's right up there with not having a sober driver."  
"Aw now, that's a bit harsh isn't it? I'd never drink and fly. Well," he corrected himself, "there was that one time. But there were banana daquiris. I can never resist a banana daquiri. Or two..."  
Donna made a face. She hated the things.  
"Yeah, well, maybe not that bad. Up there with, oh I dunno, walking home at 3am off your nut on cheap beer." In the next field Donna could see sheep, blobbed lazily across the grass. They were stupid things to be afraid of. Ever since a ram had tried to do her in on that junior school farm trip, the sight of them put her on edge. She wasn't planning to tell Martian-boy here about it 'til she had to, though, that was for sure. She'd had quite enough mocking from Lance when he'd found out - she squashed the thought. Even halfway across the universe, he still kept sort of occurring to her.

"This planet looks a lot like Earth," said Donna.  
"That's because it is," said the Doctor, rolling his eyes at her, "Heard of New Zealand?"  
"Oi," said Donna, "watch it." She had hoped to go a bit further on her only trip. "Couldn't we have gone somewhere a bit more exotic? My cousin's been to New Zealand. You've got a box which can travel through time and space and you take me to the bottom of the world."  
"Oh now, don't be too hard on the place," said the Doctor, idly patting a fence-post. "Might be something interesting just around the corner..."  
Donna wasn't convinced. She trudged on, mulling. She'd agreed to go with him for one trip when he'd turned up. Said he'd wanted a bit of company. Back in time for dinner, he'd promised. And something about him had changed Donna's mind. Flashes of grit and pain behind the idle grins. As long as he'd promise she wasn't going to get chased by bloody Santas again, she'd go for a trip, she'd said. He'd promised he'd take her somewhere safe.  
New Zealand was safe. And pretty, she supposed. But she'd been hoping for something a bit more interesting than roads and sheep and fences.

_THIRD POLAROID: A dirty lanky teenage boy slouching alongside his mum and dad, in front of a small tree and a squat wooden house._

"Dave!" called his mother. "Dave!" No reply. "Dave!" She called again, louder. Still nothing. "He's never," she shoved the carrots into boiling water, "back in time for dinner. It's not that hard. Not bloody rocket science. But can he manage it? Nope."  
"Mm," said her husband, deep in his magazine.  
"You don't know where he is, do you?"  
"Over with the sheep," he said, and turned over a page. "Probably can't hear you."  
She hmmphed, and went on chopping vegetables, her slices quick and small. All of a sudden there was a yell. A yell that echoed across the paddocks.  
"HELP! HELP!"  
"Oh fck," said his father. He threw his magazine aside and moved to the window. Their son was running full tilt across the paddocks towards them.  
"Albie - "  
"What the hell?" he said, ignoring her. "All he was doing was feeding them, Sandra. He can't have screwed that up."  
Dave was almost at the house now, nearly tripping several times in his haste. Then he was at the door, breathing hard.  
"The sheep," he panted, "the sheep -"  
"What?"  
"They tried to eat me!"  
Albert Trickerson was not impressed. "Don't be stupid." His son cast a panicked glance back across the paddocks.  
"They did!" Albert looked across at his wife. She looked back at him, unsure. "They did. Why the hell would I make up sht like that?"  
"What happened?"  
"I was feeding them, everything was fine, and then one of the sheep sort of," he paused, "snarled. And then jumped at me. And then the one next to me tried to bite at my arm. And then another one came at me from behind. If I hadn't got away..." he trailed off. The silence stretched uncomfortably.  
"Why don't you go have a look?" said his mother quickly. "I'm sure it's nothing. Something you can fix. No worries." She went to the stove, turned the pot off. "Dinner'll keep." Her voice was casual and light, but her lips were tensely tight-pursed. Dave stood in the doorway, hands deep in his pockets as his eyes shifted ceaselessly, anxiously, between his parents' faces.  
"Fine," said his father shortly. He walked outside, his son following slowly behind. Then Dave's jaw dropped. He pointed, panic-eyed, across the paddocks.  
"Look! Look!" In the distance the flock of sheep were moving, in formation, steadily towards them.

From behind them came footsteps, two sets of feet scrunching up the gravel driveway. Dave spun round. Coming towards him were a man in a rumpled brown suit and a red-headed woman who looked more than a little uncomfortable.  
"Hello," grinned the stranger. "Something wrong?"  
"Who the hell are you?" said Albert. The man in the brown suit showed them a card in a black case - _John Smith, Agricultural Management_. Albert narrowed his eyes.  
"You from the council?" He didn't much like the council. Not since they'd stopped his barn extension.  
"Sort of," said the stranger. "I'm sort of...freelance. We were just in the area - "  
" - surveying," supplied the woman.  
" - surveying," continued the stranger, "and heard you yelling from the road. What's wrong?"

In reply Dave pointed across the fields where the sheep were drawing ever closer, their movement steady, regular, almost military. The red-headed woman swore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** _Snapshots of a New Zealand Holiday_ Part 2 of 2  
**Rating:** G  
**Characters:** Ten, Donna  
**Summary:** Ten takes Donna to New Zealand where her dislike of sheep becomes alarmingly justified.  
**Disclaimer:** _Doctor Who_ is copyright to the BBC. All Rights Reserved. No copyright infringement intended, no money being made. Any similarities to _Black Sheep_ are unintentional. (No, really.)

**A/N:** Inspired by NZ references in _Voyage of the Damned_. Thanks so much to my beta **sophieisgod**, who is made of fantastic. :D And **tinuviel428** for her early awesome feedback.

**FOURTH POLAROID:** _A country stile, muddied by hasty footprints._

Dave was rather impressed by the stranger at first. He hadn't looked surprised or shocked at all. In fact, he'd looked almost pleased.

"Come on," he said, striding forward, "let's go have a chat with these sheep of yours." Albert and Dave, following along behind, exchanged confused glances.

"You off your nut, mate?" asked Albert. "Sheep don't talk."

"These sheep attack, yes?" the stranger called over his shoulder. He'd slung his jacket over one arm.

"Yes," said Dave. How'd he known?

"Then they'll talk. They'll talk to me." They reached the fence at the top of a ridge. Down in the paddock at the bottom of the ridge the sheep were halfway across the field. Dave stopped walking.

"I don't care what you think. I'm not going down there. I'm not." Albert stood beside his son, arms folded, and looked at the stranger.

"Look, mate. You go down and talk to the sheep. Or whatever it is you do. I'm not paying you anything for it," he added suddenly. "If you want money you can get off my property right now. I've had enough of the council trying to – "

" – I don't!" interrupted the stranger. "You stay here then. What's that saying? No worries, that's it. No worries." And with a flash of a grin he was over the fence and moving across the paddock, leaving his jacket behind him. The woman followed, clambering almost reluctantly over the stile.

**FIFTH POLAROID:** _A military badge with a crest; next to a curl of wool._

"They think you're barmy, Martian-boy," muttered Donna. She'd ripped her trousers on that stile, dammit. They could have gone to some Martian space-resort, but no. They were still on earth, in a muddy paddock, walking straight towards rabid sheep. What the hell had she got herself into?

"Don't let them hear you call me that," he muttered back. "If they don't like council men, there's no telling what they'll think of aliens…"

"So," said Donna, hurrying to keep up with the Doctor's long-legged strides, "what's wrong with them? You sure we're alright?" The sheep were less than fifty metres away now.

"We're fine," said the Doctor, his vowels stretching like a lazy summer afternoon. Twenty metres away from the sheep he halted, putting his hands in his pockets.

"It's you, isn't it?" he called. "The Royal Embassy of the Cochduons, trying to conquer another planet." There was a snarl from amidst the sheep. Donna coughed nervously.

"If they bite me…"

"Not scared, are you?" he said.

"They're biting sheep," she pointed out. "They're sodding dangerous. And we're standing _twenty sodding metres_ away. Remember how I said you needed someone to hold you back?"

"Yes."

"Probably shouldn't have let you past the fence."

"Trust me," said the Doctor, turning back to the sheep. "I'm the Doctor. I know what I'm doing. Well, most of the time."

The sheep were shuffling uneasily, like a class of miscreant schoolboys.

"You are the Cochduons, aren't you? Come on, speak up. Who's your squadron captain?" asked the Doctor. An large white-grey sheep moved forward from the front of the formation.

"I am Major Baa-aartholemew, Ensign Sigma Seven. I speak for my Cochduon squadron." His voice was thick and muffled, with a hardness and age at its edges.

"Oh, not YOU again," said the Doctor. "You really do have no imagination. Just like sheep, stumbling across the universe, trying the same old thing everytime...it never works," he said to Donna.

"Don't be rude," said Donna. And for a second the Doctor paused, looking at her.

"No," he said.

"We've not done anything wrong," said the Major in his thick voice.

"Not done anything wrong?" said Donna, indignant. "You attacked that boy!"

"It was self-defence," rumbled the Major. "I have lost so many men to these people. My men grow intolerant. And impatient."

"Listen to me," said the Doctor. "You know you're not allowed to be here. You and I were both there when they issued the Cochduon Restriction Proclamation."

"That," said the Major, "was an unfair charter. And unfair. And badly translated. Our version reads differently to theirs."

"But you speak English," said Donna, confused.

The Major raised his head slowly, his large eyes staring directly at Donna. She backed away.

"No, they don't," said the Doctor, "I'll explain later…how many of you are there here?" he continued.

"Thirty five squadrons, spaced along this country's length." There was a rebellious pride to his voice.

"And what exactly are you planning? No, wait. You're Cochduons. I can guess."

"You cannot expect me to reveal military secrets. Whoever you are, you may be wise but you have no army. No power." His voice grew quiet. Harder. Threatening. Donna swore very quietly and moved slightly behind the Doctor.

"No. Very rude of me to not introduce myself…I do apologise. I'm the Doctor. And I don't have an army. But I do have this." He held up his sonic screwdriver. His voice was strong with age-old authority. "This is more powerful than your squadron, than your whole army. One word and the whole lot of you will be inside here. And I'll take you back to Cochddu. And I don't think the Federation will be impressed. Do you?" Behind the major the flock shifted, a worried edge to their muttering.

"I cannot remove an entire army in an instant, Doctor," rumbled the Major, although there was a quaver at the very edge of his voice. Just the slightest hint of a quaver.

"No, no, you can't," said the Doctor. "But where you and yours go, the rest will follow." There was a silence and a small cold wind that pulled at Donna's hair. "You can leave the way you came. I'm going up there," he pointed back at the house, "to have a cup of tea. If you're still here when I come back…"

He turned and began walking back. Donna hastily followed, hearing the sheep muttering resentfully behind them.

"I don't think your bit of sonic worked," she said. "How do you know they're going to leave?"

"Because they always do," said the Doctor. "Regular as clockwork…they show up, I show up, I scare them, they leave and start again somewhere else. It's no wonder they choose to make themselves look like sheep. They really don't have much imagination."

"Can your sonic…screwdriver…thing really do that? Imprison all of them?" It didn't look like much, just a silver and blue knobbly tube. Looked more like a dodgy hen-night present than anything else. The Doctor grinned, and ran a hand through his wind-mussed hair.

"Nope. But they don't know that, do they?"

It occurred to Donna that someday they might.

**SIXTH POLAROID:** _Lamb, still rawly red, on a brown butcher's board._

"And THAT," said the Doctor, "is why NZ lamb has been selling so well lately. The flesh of the Cochduon has a certain," he paused to clamber up a ridge "piquancy." Donna looked at him blankly. He rolled his eyes, and explained, "It tastes good. Like that tea and shortbread we just had…you sure you passed all your final exams?" Donna whacked him one. No alien was going to give her cheek and get away with it. The cup of tea had been nice, although she wasn't sure how that family'd take their flock disappearing overnight. She'd have to remember to ask the Doctor about that as well.

"I've probably eaten the stuff," said Donna, making a face. "Lance always bought it. He reckoned British beef wasn't safe yet, said he was looking out for me.." she trailed off. They'd reached the top of the hill where the Tardis was. The Doctor looked across at her, and shot her a grin.

"It won't have done you any harm," he said. "Cochduon meat's packed full of nutrients. Very healthy stuff. I'd eat it if I wasn't allergic."

"You're allergic?" said Donna. "I thought you were, y'know, invincible."

"Weeell, not allergic," he said. He leaned against the side of the Tardis. "I ate some when I was little. Wasn't properly prepared, so I got the nutrients full-power. Grew an extra leg and three more fingers."

"Is that why you've got two hearts?"

"Nah, that's Time Lord standard. Anyway," he continued, "they chopped all the extra bits off and when I regenerated for the first time I lost the scars. Not a mark on me." He extended smooth pale hands out in front of him, slender nails chipped from navigating his Tardis. "But ever since, I don't fancy eating them much."

"No," said Donna, "me neither. I don't fancy growing extra tits, thank you very much."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows and said nothing. "They were only interested in animals," he explained, after a pause. "They always figure it's the best way in. Basic masking technology. You look at them and think you see a sheep or a cat or a dog, when really it's just them wearing a perception filter. They imitate animal forms, gradually bring in reinforcements, ready themselves to launch an attack when you all least expect it. After all, you trust your pets, don't you? You let them wander everywhere…"

"But they didn't infect any humans or anything, did they?" asked Donna, suddenly worried. New Zealand might be down the bottom of the world but still...she didn't trust these aliens. She wasn't even sure about this Doctor yet.

"Nope," he said "Their genetics are all wrong for anything like that. No semi-sheep or quasi-dogs wandering around, no."

There was another pause. The wind was rising, and grey beginning to gather at the edge of the wide sky.

"Mind you, Helen Clark..."

--

_end._


End file.
